The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

This morning I was startled awake by screams. It was still dark so I wasn't sure which crying child was headed my direction. WHAT'S WRONG?  WHAT HAPPENED? I yelled from my cozy bed.  My tongue bathed in the remnants of last night's wine adventure. More cries.  But this time my keen ear distinguished this to be Little E. I thought his streak of never vomiting had unfortunately come to an end.  The only time Big E cried like this was when he vomited all over himself and his bed, which was awesome, by the way. I FELL OUT OF MY BED!  IT HURT! Poor Little E.  He dropped it like it was hot.  Right out of his leathery Costco trundle bed. I pulled him into bed as I still hadn't garnered enough strength to get up.  I'm not even sure if Mr. Yoy woke up for this.  He quietly snored away next to me. I soothed Little E as I strained to catch the time.  6:30.  He's up for the day.  And with all the adrenaline pumping throug...

The chance the Yoys' shared bathroom has of not smelling like the men's urinals at the Falcon's game. My kids aren't even drinking beer and stuffing their faces with nachos. They are stone cold sober.  And three and four years old. No amount of bleach and the thrice-weekly washing of their bathmat keeps the lingering smell of urine at bay.  It mocks me. I'm thinking I need to install a drain in the floor, tile the walls and ceiling, and power wash that room every evening after I put them to bed. Any suggestions?  Besides requiring them to use the grass in the backyard.  I even used them all together.  I either singed all my nose hair or I finally (temporarily) got rid of the smell.

Big E's transition from a super small preschool to a full-fledged public elementary school has been pretty smooth. We knocked out last week's homework assignment with no problem.  High fives and back pats all around. I eagerly opened up Big E's homework folder this afternoon to see this week's project. And there it was.   DIORAMA. Don't know what that is?  Look it up.   Before we go any further, I'd like to point out the first part of the word basically communicates that me and my four year old son will die attempting to pull this thing together. I have foggy flashbacks of creating my own diorama using a shoebox and my dollhouse furniture.  I was also eight. Never fear, loyal readers, Mrs. Yoy has a plan! 1) Pinterest  2) If #1 fails, use my charms to convince Mr. Yoy to take the lead.  He's the creative one, anyway.

Big E was hard at work on his first homework assignment of the school year. Yes, I am aware that he is four and has homework. His task was to draw his school, his teacher, his classroom, himself.  I busted out the markers and watched Big E channel his inner artist.  As his mother, I believe him to be the next Monet, but in reality, his talents are more in line with an 80s episode of Win, Lose, or Draw. BIG E, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL PICTURE YOU DREW! He looked up at me and smiled with such confidence. IS IT BECAUSE I USED A LEADING DISNEY ANIMATOR? Good lord.  My kid watches way too much Disney stuff.  He's already been brainwashed. Big E's Self-Portrait

Living in Atlanta has its pros and cons. I have yet to determine the pros, but as a regular reader of the Mrs. Yoy Blog, I'm sure you are familiar with some of the cons.  See crime, traffic, pot holes, etc. One of my top five cons, is the century old, jacked up water and sewer system. As a city resident, our monthly water and sewer bill is astronomical.  Some months, I take a shot of vodka just to have the courage to open the envelope. It consistently hovers in the $200/month range and we never use our sprinkler system.  Ever.  A few of my (un)lucky neighbors have received bills approaching $1,000.  For a month.  Of water.  Not Veuve Clicquot. We are mindful of our water usage.  It's not like we skip showers or don't flush our toilets, we just see dollar bills sliding down the drain when we do. Little E is newly bathroom independent.  He's doing great, for the most part. Yesterday he used the bathroom and washed his hands all with...

This afternoon's outing began with the usual toilet standoff. While a toilet standoff sounds intriguing, it boils down to me pleading with my children to use the bathroom before we leave the house so we can avoid (AT ALL COSTS!) the dreaded public restroom. Who doesn't love dragging two kids into the dirtiest Walmart-ish bathroom stall on the planet? THIS GIRL! It is that visual that fuels my stubbornness.  Bathroom time is a must before we head out. Big E immediately refused. Little E happily climbed up on the toilet.  He hasn't graduated to the EVERYTHING-MY-MOM-SAYS-IS-SH*T phase yet. Half-way through Little E's bathroom time, Big E decided he needed to use the toilet.  Like yesterday. I offered him my bathroom, the guest bathroom, or the downstairs bathroom. These choices were sub-standard.   Big E needed his bathroom.  With the lovely blue walls, elephant decor, and plush towels.  There was no other option for him. ...

Big E fell flat on his face this evening. At first I couldn't tell if the blood was real or if it was residual paint and/or pizza sauce. But his tears were very real, so it's safe to assume that the blood was not for show. I calmed him down and assessed the damage to be a few surface scrapes and a rudolph-like nose, which I believe is the correct medical terminology. As bedtime approached, I received some terrible news courtesy of Big E. ANY SCRAPES OR BUMPS TO MY NOSE WILL CAUSE ME TO STAY AWAKE ALL NIGHT.  (It was even better in person, with his seriousness and overzealous hand gestures) My hopes for an early, peaceful evening sunk like my jokes at a cocktail party. But in the end, the 6.5 hours of school + 2.5 hours of playdating + 1.5 hours of pizza eating overpowered Big E and he boarded the express train to dreamland. AMEN. If you see Big E tomorrow, make sure you say hello!

My house may or may not be haunted .  Understandably, I'm a little jumpy. Little E retold his creepy ghost story AGAIN at Big E's school playground yesterday after class.  He's keeping the topic trending over here at the Yoy residence.  Which leads me into my next story... The morning alarm came too fast.  Mr. Yoy and I were out late jamming to the likes of Toto and Kansas last night.  We were paying for it this morning.  I mumbled something to Mr. Yoy and rolled over to grab my glasses. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I levitated into the safe clutches of the ceiling fan. Standing one inch away from my pillow was not one, but both Yoysers. Shoulder to shoulder.  Perfectly still.  Smiling in the dawn light. How did I not hear those guys slip into our room?  Their nighttime approach resembles a herd of elephants. I'm going to have to booby trap our bedroom door, Goonies style, if this continues. Try waking up to the boy version of this....

Last night, I saw a ghost.  He was white.  Walking up our stairs.  And crying. This could be the opening scene to every terrible horror movie ever made.  Or it could be my sweet boy, Little E, telling everyone he encounters about our newest resident.  In his creepy little kid voice. His teacher told me about it first.  She pulled me aside to tell me how clearly he had described our ghost.  The hair on my arms stood up.   As I walked him home through our neighborhood, I tried to justify his story.   IT WAS PROBABLY A BAD DREAM. HE SAW IT ON SOME SILLY TV SHOW. But my sensibility, which I pride myself on, had quickly dissolved into hysteria by the time we turned onto our street. OUR HOUSE MUST BE BUILT ON AN OLD BURIAL GROUND! WE ARE HAUNTED! HOW WILL I EVER SLEEP AGAIN? I didn't say anything to Little E about it.  Instead, I watched in amazement as he relayed his story to anyone that would listen. ...

Day two of Big E's adventure in Pre-K. He seems to be adjusting well.  No tears, no dragging his feet when it's time to go.  Heck, he even hugged every person left in his classroom goodbye this afternoon at pickup.  Including his teachers. As I was preparing to pull my stuff together, including Little E, and leave to go pick up Big E, we had an incident. I won't go into the gory deets, but it ended with Little E in the tub. So I didn't hear the approaching storm. I was in such a rush to get out the door, I didn't notice the rain until we backed out of the garage. I delusionally reassured myself it would let up by the time we made the five minute drive to school. I parked on the street and shut off the car.  I had about five minutes until I really had to get out and make the half a block walk to the school. LET'S GET OUT! Little E is so patient.  And clearly he wants yet another bath. The five minutes passed and the ran showed little sign of r...